


i love you but the moon is blue

by cheshireduke



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Best Friends, Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Dom Louis, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Friends to Lovers, Harry in Panties, Harry is a Tease, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Overdosing, Protective Louis, Top Louis Tomlinson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshireduke/pseuds/cheshireduke
Summary: Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend, after spending six months sobering up in rehab. Louis is scared, Harry is damaged and they're brought together for the first time in years, in the city of Jacksonville, Florida. A story about dealing with all sorts of addiction, different spectrums of love and the endurance of an everlasting friendship.





	1. Double Indemnity

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic in English, so be nice to my grammar. Every feedback is appreciated. Please, check the tags before reading any further.

"Harry, open up," Louis knocked on his bedroom door, having just been woken up by his not so subtle cries. He had pajama pants and an oversized hoodie on. It was pouring outside and the white noise only made him more antsy. He tried the handle and sighed when he realised it was locked. ”What the hell, Harry? Talk to me," he knocked again.

A few mute seconds went by and Harry's soft footsteps echoed through the walls as he got up from the bed. He unlocked the door and his enormous olive like eyes took Louis' vision. He'd been sobbing, that's for sure. His thick eyelashes, black as charcoal, were sticking to one another, and his entire face was flushed red.

"Wanna talk or just cuddle?", Louis had known Harry for far too long. He understood exactly how his fragile little heart worked. "Maybe watch some reruns?"

"Cuddle," he answered barely inaudibly and turned around to go back to bed. 

Louis followed him because, well, of course he did. They were best friends. Even though they had been sharing a flat for a few months, Harry still found ways to be secretive and reserved. He was still trying to figure life out since he'd gotten out of rehab. He’d developed an obsession with cleaning and spent most of his empty afternoons vacuuming the floor. He woke up earlier than Louis almost every day and was asleep before he came home.

That night, however, Harry had gone out. He still had his tight jeans on and a bit of turquoise glitter on his eyelids. It stained his cheeks all the way down to his chin and Louis' hand itched to clean it up. The glitter, the tears, every trace of distress. Harry was too good and too beautiful to ever look so defeated.

In no time, Louis' warm body was embracing Harry's back. Harry reached for his hand like a lifeline and sighed deeply. He knew better than to wake his best friend up at 3 AM. 

"You already know, don't you?", his deep voice rumbled into the silence.

"What?"

"Don't you know?"

Louis stilled, suddenly terrified something awful might have happened "I was asleep. Sorry, I'm not sure I'm following."

"Shit, Lou," the muffled cries came back as he gripped Louis' hand so fiercely his bones ached.

"Don't cry. Or do. Crying cleanses the soul or something, right?" Louis' thin lips left a tentative kiss on the crook of his neck. The skin there was hot and soft and, to Louis' misfortune, smelled like a thousand sinful things. Other people's perfumes, menthol cigs and a finch of cheap vodka. Harry swore he'd never go back to drinking, but Louis was constantly checking nonetheless. Far below those foreign scents, laid a sea of Harry's salty tears. Louis would drown in it just to make them stop.

"What can I do for you?", he continued.

Harry shivered under the slow kiss, his slender body trembling quickly in response.

"Nothing. He fucked up."

"Who did?”, he already knew the answer. 

"Jimmy, of course," Harry's words sounded angrier, sharper, as if he was remembering each and every time Jim had crushed him.

Louis remembered it too. Hell, he could count exactly how many times Harry had cried on his very lap over someone else. And yet, he kept coming back. Addicted to someone so distant and so cold they could freeze fire. Harry knew a thing or two about addiction.

"Oh, baby..." he cooed, hiding his own disappointment for his best friend's sake "I had no idea.”

Harry's hand, still adorned in big silvery rings, reached for his cell on the nightstand. "It's all over Snapchat, Louis. Everyone knows."

Reluctantly, Louis let go of Harry's hand to grab the cellphone. On the screen, Jim was clearly snogging someone under the colorful club lights. His tattooed arms were grabbing some guy's arse as if no one else was around, and his liquor stained mouth was latched to his neck.

"Harry-"

"I don't need you to tell me I have to snap out of it. That's the last thing I need."

"I wasn't gonna say that."

"It's okay. I know what everyone else thinks," he cussed as he retrieved his mobile, tossing it on the other side of the bed. "That I'm too forgiving. That he takes advantage of me", he swallowed quickly "That even a former junkie is deserving of something better."

"You know I'm not everyone else."

Harry's knees bended even closer to his chest, that heaved in anxiety. Louis' hands were combing some of his wild curls back and the only sounds in the room were their hesitant breathing and the relentless rain outside.

"You didn't know he'd be at the club?", Louis continued.

"No. He told me he'd have an early night."

"I thought you weren't back together."

"We're not. But I’m upset."

“It’s okay to be”, Louis whispered “Did you drink?”

“No, Lou”, Harry sighed in a hoarse voice “I told you I wouldn’t.”

"I know. ‘M just asking.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm not gonna tell you how sorry I am because you have other people that can do it for you. I'll just be by your side, alright?"

"Thank you."

"Take your jeans off, though. You'll get a rash in the morning."

Harry nearly smiled, standing up to shimmy out of his jeans awkwardly and tossing them on the floor.

Louis’ eyebrows knitted in confusion. Tossing a piece of clothing on the floor was very out of character for Harry. He decided to not comment on it, though.

"Good night, Harry," he reached for the bedside lamp and flicked it off. He hugged Harry impossibly tighter, trying to soothe him somehow. He searched for his own smell among all those others. Craved it, missed it.

"Nighty night. Love you", it came out as a breath, almost disappearing mid air like petals of a dandelion. A secret.

"Me too."

Harry went to sleep within seconds, his little whistles invading Louis' ears like an antique lullaby. Once his body was pliant under his firm hands, Louis allowed himself to drift off too, never loosening the grip on his waist.

_______________

Louis' hands fumbled trying to find Harry's fingers. His own were a bit cold at the tips and he could use some body heat. Instead, all he found was a handful of even colder sheets. Harry must have been up for at least a while. 

"Fucking hell," he slid his slow legs off the bed and cringed at the icy wooden floor. He'd never understand why Harry woke up during the night to open his windows. Maybe he flew away during his dreams. All those whimsical thoughts had to have an escape route, after all.

Differently from last night, every little thing around him was tidy. Harry had put all the clothes away and the room even smelled like citric fruit. The flowers on his plant box were properly watered and its vases were free from dirt. How did he manage to clean it spotless without waking Louis up was a mystery.

Stumbling to their small kitchen, Louis' lips blossomed a smile. Harry was in his pineapple apron with nothing but black briefs on. A few water droplets from a recent shower were running down his broad back and he was humming that song from the radio. His hands were busy flipping some pancakes in the pan and adding them to the ever growing pile on his left.

"Hey."

Harry's body jumped in surprise and his bare feet nearly failed him. "Lou." He turned around, wearing a single dimple on his thin cheek. "I- made us breakfast." He always did. Even when he left early, Louis' peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be waiting for him in a brown bag over the counter.

"I can see that, love." Louis wanted to lift him over the counter and tickle his tummy until the second dimple showed itself. "Pancakes?", he indulged him.

"Yes. Banana pancakes with blueberries and blackberries. And cereal."

"You've made cereal?"

"I have," the second dimple almost came to life._ Almost._ Louis' eyes were nearly carving it on Harry's face. "Harvested the wheat and everything."

"Organic?"

"Please," he scoffed "as if there was any other way."

"Never knew you had it in you. You sure are something else, Harry Styles." 

Both dimples couldn't have shone brighter if they were pierced to Harry's skin. His smile was wide and blinding. Each of his teeth burned Louis' blue eyes like a white sun would. On the other hand, the angsts that were hidden underneath that joy were terrifying. Harry could crack at any second. Louis had to make sure he'd be around to put the pieces back together.

They sat across from each other and dove in the pile of fluffy pancakes. Harry went on about how they had to be fried equally on both sides or they wouldn't "feel like clouds on your tongue, Louis." They drank enough tea to heat up Louis' stiff and cold limbs from sleeping with the window open and he moaned in satisfaction.

"Your tea is the best, d'you know that?", he talked against the brim, letting the thick fog cover his nose and cheeks.

"It's from the box, Lou", Harry giggled, but blushed nonetheless.

"It's better than mine!"

"You pour too much water."

"Do not."

"You do, I've seen it. It hurts my eyes."

"You should teach me how to do it right sometime, then."

"No way", Harry threw a berry at him, smiling softly "I enjoy doing it for you."

Louis felt his heart heat up and he was pretty sure it wasn't the tea’s doing. He was glad to be sipping on it when his stomach fluttered so he didn't have to reply.

Harry looked so peaceful. His torso was nearly dry and the sunlight was washing his skin gold. He'd grown up so much, Louis thought. His long locks were gone, his neck bare and beautiful. The childish cherub face was long forgotten, its place taken by a sharp jawline and a wrinkle between his eyebrows that never seemed to go away.

His eyes though, they were as gentle and warm as ever. They looked a little swollen, probably, from all the crying and the sleep deprivation. But the colour was evergreen like a tropical forest during golden hour. Hot, liquid and so, so candid.

Harry finished the last blueberries on his plate and stood up, taking the apron off and draping it over the counter. Suddenly, he seemed to be in a hurry.

"Where are you going?", Louis grasped for air from diving in his eyes for too long.

"Out."

He grabbed his keys, only in his briefs now the apron was out of the way. He headed for the bedroom to get dressed and Louis caught up right behind, still munching on a pancake. He wanted to munch on Harry's love handles and every other soft part of him instead.

"Out? It's Sunday morning", he protested, mouth full.

"It's nearly mid-day", Harry didn't seem bothered as he slid a sheer bottom up through his long arms. 

"So you won't tell me where you're going."

"You don't own me, Louis."

Louis stood in silence, shocked at the harshness of the words. He raised his eyebrows, static, waiting for something. An apology, an explanation, anything. 

Harry sighed loudly, facing the ceiling in annoyance. "Listen. I'll see you later, okay?", he wrinkled his nose and went in the bathroom to finish changing. He wasn't a prude, not in the slightest. Also, he'd changed in front of Louis more times than not. He had no reason to shy away.

Louis huffed as the door closed before him and went back to the kitchen to do the washing up. The maple syrup and the blackberries were sticking to the plates and he felt like throwing the entire crockery against the wall. Harry was being ridiculously immature, that's what it was.

The sound of running water was gradually substituted by heels clicking on the wooden floor. Louis rolled his eyes, gripping a glass so hard it could burst in his hands. Of course Harry would wear his vinyl red boots to go out on a Sunday morning. Loud, avant-garde, excessive. Louis would recognize its sound anywhere.

Louis turned around to snap at him, glass still in hands, and grasped an eyeful of his leather covered legs. Harry was bent over, tucking his lace socks inside the boots carefully. Above his waistband, nearly squishing the softness of his hips, laid a baby blue strip of fabric. A very thin and dainty strip.

Harry was wearing panties.

The glass slipped from Louis' hands and his breath hitched in his throat as it shattered all across the floor, the pieces still coated in detergent. Baby blue panties underneath leather pants that looked like they were painted on his legs from all the tightness. 

“You've made a proper mess, haven't you?", Harry lifted up from the floor, boots somehow looking redder and higher than ever, pulled his curls back and was out the door without even looking Louis in the eye.

He left Louis to deal with broken glass, a racing heart and a hoarded brain. By himself.

_______________

"Dude, I'm telling you, there's no reason to worry. I think he's just trying to learn how to live again. Rehab messes with people's heads, y'know? My aunt spent months without talking to anyone."

"I don't know, Lee", Louis fidgeted with the telephone wire, upside down in his bed "I’m scared he might be hiding something."_ A baby blue something._ "Something nasty." _Something that will be on my mind for a long time._

"Do you think he is on drugs again?"

"What?! No." _I hope not._

"Did you hear about Jim, though?"

"It was all over Snapchat", he nodded, echoing what Harry had told him.

"Yeah... that's fucked up, isn't it?"

"It is." He couldn't stop wondering if Harry had gone out to meet Jim. The thought alone shaked his insides in fury.

"Harry is a grown up, you know? You don't have to look after him all the time."

"I know. It's just- it makes me jittery when he doesn't tell me stuff. It's complicated."

"Hell yes it's complicated,” Liam scoffed loudly "but he know what Jim is all about by now. If he decides he deserves another chance, that's up to him."

“I wish it wasn't.”

“Yeah. But he's been sober for what, seven months?"

"Eight."

"See? It's all good."

"I don't know... when the drugs started, he was just as dodgy."

"Give Harry some credit, Louis. He's been through a lot. Trust his judgement for once."

"I'll try, I promise", he sighed defeatedly. 

"I have to go. You'll be fine though, right?”

“I always do. See ya, Lee.”

He always did.

The day went by slowly. Louis ordered pizza because he was upset (also because Harry wasn't around to make him lunch) and spent the afternoon crouched over his uni assignments. He cleaned up the broken glass in pure anger, which earned him a band-aided finger and a massive headache. He thought about checking on Harry, but his pride wouldn't let him type a bloody text.

Maybe Liam was right. Perhaps he should leave Harry be and mind his own business. So, why was he getting more impatient each time the clock ticked? Harry should have gotten home by now. His ridiculously sweet perfume still lingered in the air, a painful reminder of that morning's bantering.

Ever since they had moved in together, their friendship had only grown. They decorated the place within just three days because Harry was way too excited to put Louis' paintings up the wall. Some were mere splashes of paint just for the sake of aesthetics, and others were carefully drawn nature pieces. No matter the subject, they were all colorful. Louis would never hold back on adding another layer of paint.

Louis'd never thought he was talented. He had sold more than few paintings, yes, and even published some articles on how art impacts everyday life. But he feared he'd never be the Picasso he was inside his mind. 

Harry thought Picasso had nothing on him.

Louis was laying on their small coffee stained sofa, flicking through the channels mindlessly. The living room smelled like cheese from the pizza box on the table before him. Harry would scold him for it, definitely. Louis was secretly hoping he would, just so the ice between them wouldn't be so thick.

His thoughts were interrupted by voices echoing in the elevator hall of their apartment.

"Will I see you soon, baby?"

"Yeah.”

That was Harry's sweet, breathy, half-a-moan voice. He was riled up. That's the same tone he used to talk about Patrick Dempsey. Louis had it memorized on every single one of his brain cells. Hell, he'd pretend to like Grey's Anatomy just to indulge how enthusiastic Harry was about it.

"Alright. Thank you for today." 

A wet kiss echoed this time, making Louis' face scrunch. The nearly stale mozzarella hanging in the air almost smelled nice in comparison to his discomfort.

"I'll text you", the other voice went on.

"I love you, papi," Harry replied.

He fidgeted with his keys and the lock clicked open.

Louis shut his eyes in response, pretending to be asleep. For some reason, he felt like he'd just intruded Harry's privacy. The way the word "papi" rolled so easily off his tongue had Louis' stomach twisting in guilt. That was too intimate, too personal, too _sex inducing_ to be heard through the thin walls of their apartment. Laying there pathetically, he could only hope Harry would reach out for him instead.

To his misfortune, Harry headed straight for the shower. 

"Damn you, stubborn little boy", Louis muttered in a breath, sensing worry rising in his gut.

He laid there, realizing he'd have to dispose of the pizza box himself. He listened quietly as Harry filled the tub, humming the same song from that morning. He sounded happy, at least.

Louis still remembered in vivid detail the day Anne had sent Harry away. He'd been acting weird, skipping classes and meals. His sleeping pattern was all fucked up and he swore it was because of his uni assignments. He started shutting everyone out. His mum, his sister, his neighbors and even Louis. He became a misguided soul within months and that lit everyone's suspicions. 

Some people thought he was depressed, unhappy with college or just living an antisocial moment. He lived alone at the time, so no one knew exactly what he was up to in the apartment. The only one that visited him quite frequently was Jim. Harry was starting to ignore any other calls or texts that weren't his.

A few weeks later, Gemma, his older sister, barked in and found a stash of heroin in his bottom drawer. She connected the dots and lifted his long sleeved tee to find needle holes all over his arms. There was no way to deny it, even though Harry tried. He was so in deep, he argued they were mosquito bites and that the stash was leftover from one of his house parties. His mum searched around his other drawers and found several bottles of rum, absinthe and vodka.

Long story short, he quit college and went to rehab for six months. Louis went to visit him as soon he knew, one of the few that didn't abandon him. It was a long drive from Jacksonville to St. Mary's, but Louis kept his promise of seeing him every weekend. He'd just buckle up, drink more Red Bulls than his stomach could handle and hit the gas. Whenever his eyelids would start dropping, he'd think about Harry's smile. It made the trick every time.

Sweet and loving Harry, really good at cooking and really bad at crossword puzzles. Happy during mornings and grumpy after class. Obsessed with Discovery Home & Health, black and white movies, and easily uninterested in any superhero movie Louis loved. He was distancing himself from everything that defined him. Each day, he was becoming a shattered image of himself. Lonely, dodgy, monosyllabic, angry Harry.

Louis would never admit it to himself, but visiting Harry in rehab was frustrating. He would be either staring at the wall or complaining about the food, never paying too much attention to the gifts Louis would bring him or to the way his blue eyes seemed transfixed on checking if his needle marks were healing.

On his second week at the institution, Louis brought him his favourite candies. Sour patch, only the green and red ones though – Louis had selected them very carefully to prevent Harry from having a fit, something that had been occurring a lot. 

"What the hell, Louis?", Harry snapped the second he opened the package, twisting his mouth in disgust.

"It's sour patch? Thought it'd brighten up your day a bit", he smiled uncertainly "I remember how much you used to like them when we were little," his voice softened at the end, sensing another one of Harry's fits building up "Thought it'd remind you of me."

"We're not little, Louis. I don't even eat this anymore."

"Right. Sorry. It's just that you've been so distant... I feel like I don't know you."

Harry stared at him blankly, expressionless. His hair was past his shoulders and its curls were tangling on one another as if they hadn't been combed for days. His eyes were swollen and tired, the reflection of many sleepless nights.

"I have. Couldn't exactly tell you I was shooting heroin, huh?", he laughed bitterly and laid on his bed, staring at the white ceiling. A little window was open and a cold breeze engulfed both of their bodies.

Louis was sitting on a chair, still holding the other bags of gifts. One of them had a little tile painting he'd done, but everything just seemed dull after Harry's reaction to the candies. He just couldn't work up the courage to mention them.

"You will never understand how much I miss her. It hurts my insides sometimes", Harry continued "Literally hurts. There's times when I think I might combust and die."

"Her?"

"Dope", he sighed dreamily, rolling his body to face Louis "China White."

"You mean- you mean heroin?"

Harry rolled his eyes at him, annoyed.

Louis shivered. Harry talked about heroin as if it was an old friend. A former lover he never got over. A dirty mistress, some kind of wizard of darkness and light all at once. The girl he had been spending all his time with. Caressing her ebony hair, sucking on her pale collarbone and laying beside her every night. Miss China White.

"Why don't you say heroin?"

"It's not just _heroin_", he finger quoted it, mocking Louis' question "It's high grade heroin. With fentanyl."

Louis looked just as lost, hearing how desperately his heart was hammering against his rib cage. He stared at Harry expectantly.

"It's a painkiller, Louis. Or did you think David Bowie's China Girl was actually an asian chick?" he turned back to the ceiling. His green eyes seemed to look for something that didn’t exist.

"Right. That sounds expensive."

“Yeah.”

“How did you even afford it?”

"Sold some stuff. Met some people."

"Okay”, Louis shook his head, trying to push away the frightening feelings that were starting to wrap his body “Are you in distress here, Harry? Don't you think this is the best for you now?"

"It could be."

"Yeah? I'm glad. Things will look up, you'll see", Louis grinned widely, rolling his chair forward to squeeze Harry's thigh. He was dressed in a fluffy white pajama and had a pair of pink socks on.

"I meant...it could be._ If _you could sneak some in for me", he winked theatrically.

"What- Harry, what the hell..."

"Come on, Lou. Just a little”, he sat up, more enthusiastic than he’d been in a while “Just a tiny bit. A Ziploc bag. I might even be nice and share it with you. Y’know, take you on a ride."

A beat passed. Louis was speechless.

"You're sicker than I thought."

"Fuck you, Louis", he stared blankly at him, nearly spitting his words.

"No, fuck _you_. I'm still here for you even after being pushed away a billion times and you're thinking of me as a mule", he raised his voice "Fuck you, Harry. Fuck you, fuck the cruel way you have been treating me and fuck every kilometer I've driven all the way here. I'm leaving."

"Whatever," Harry curled up in a ball on his bed and turned to the the wall "I'm used to watching people leave."

On the weekend after that, Louis didn't drive to St. Mary's. He sat at home, drowning in self pity and thinking about Harry. His forest green eyes, the softness of his plump lips whenever he kissed his cheeks and how things were between them before they started to crumble desperately.

Harry wasn't allowed a phone in St. Mary's. It was just him, that surgically white ceiling, the tiny window and his untrustworthy mind. That meant Louis couldn't even check on him. He'd just have to suck it up.

Harry started draining the bathtub water, which made Louis snap out of his reveries. It still felt unreal that they were sleeping under the same roof. Sometimes, Louis would wake up sweating during the night, dreaming about Harry disappearing through the front door. He'd always get up, check if he was asleep and then go back to bed with his breathing still unsteady.

"Lou?" Harry’s deep voice echoed across the bathroom and into the living room.

Louis gasped, feeling a weird knot grow in his gut, as if he had been caught in the act. Of remembering, of longing, maybe.

"Come on, you weirdo, I know you're awake," he sighed audibly "The entire house smells like pizza."

Louis muffled a laugh in his hands, unable to stay mad at Harry for long.

"I'm asleep!", he shouted back in a breathless giggle "I was having a nice dream and your annoying voice ruined it."

"Lou, I'm serious!" Harry whined from the bathroom again, stomping his foot "I need you to get me a towel."

"Go to your bedroom naked, what's the problem?!"

"It's cold", he properly moaned, rubbing his wet arms frantically "And you're supposed to take care of me."

An absolute silence swallowed them both. Two unsaid apologies hanged in the air, dying to leave their mouths. Somehow, however, they were both frozen, as if Harry's words had struck an arrow to Louis' heart and they were trying to understand why it had hurt so much.

"Louis?", he asked with uncertainly, shivering for different reasons other than the cold water on his pores.

"You're a moron, did y'know that?"

"Shit!" he jumped as he saw Louis outside the bathroom and hid his naked bottom behind the door "You scared the fuck out of me, Lou, Jesus."

Louis threw the towel at his face, smiling. Harry's hair was all wet and its curls were sticking to his beautiful face like a halo. His cheeks were pink from the steam and his lips were all bitten – by someone else.

"Don't you think we need to talk?"

"Yeah..." Harry dried his arms and wrapped the towel around his waist, exiting the bathroom "I do."

"Do you understand why I keep tabs on you?", Louis cornered him in the hallway, placing his hands on the wall, beside Harry's head, so he would pay attention "Do you understand why I ask you things?"

"Because I'm a drug addict."

"No."

"You know that's why."

"No, Harry. Because I worry", Louis' eyes were weary but stone hard "And I worry even more when you won't let me in."

"I worry about you too," Harry's voice sounded small as he stared with regret at Louis' face. "I worry about you more than anyone."

"Then you understand how I feel."

"I guess," he shrugged.

"Please, don't push me away. We're friends. We've always been. I want to help."

"I know, Lou," Harry hugged Louis' body desperately, not caring if he was wetting his clothes. He laid his head on his shoulder and just stayed there for a few seconds, breathing him in "I'm sorry."

Louis stiffened, caught by surprise. He sighed in defeat and hugged Harry back, palming his wet body and untangling his curls with his fingers. They smelled like strawberry shampoo and a bit like childhood.

"I know I do that a lot. Disappear, I mean", he continued.

"I just need to know you're not back at your old habits."

"I'm not, Lou."

Louis broke the hug and held Harry's face with both hands "Do you promise?"

"I promise. Wouldn't lie to you."

"And if you ever feel like doing it, can you please tell me? I know you're seeing a psychologist, but I feel like friends can ground you too."

"I'll tell you", he nodded "I don't want to go back to that. It hurt me."

"You were with Jim, weren't you? Today?"

Harry nodded, a little ashamed.

"Do I need to keep tabs on that too or you're gonna come forward if something bad happens?"

"I will ask for help if I need to", he caressed Louis' face with his long wet fingers "Promise."

"Alright. Go change yourself, you're making a puddle in the carpet."

Harry left a kiss on his band-aided finger. His laugh echoed in the hallway as he made a beeline to his bedroom, nearly slipping on his own puddle.

Louis sighed in relief and carded his fingertips through his hair, exasperated. Then, he went back to the living room to dispose of the bloody pizza box.

_______________

The next few days were unruffled. Harry was organizing some paperwork to go back to college and Louis was working on a new painting. Besides from having paint tubes all over his room, he was happy with the progress. Harry's mum called and they spent some good hours with her on Skype, talking about Harry's plans and Louis' new painting series. She seemed glad to know Harry was eating, communicating and trying to go back to doing things again.

When asked about whether Harry was dating anyone, Harry said he wasn't. He didn't mention Jim, not even once, despite his mum's insistances and the fact that someone was delivering him flower bouquets every week. It didn’t make sense, since he had told Louis they weren't back together. Not yet, at least. That made Louis' suspicions rise even higher.

"Hazza", Louis landed on the sofa with his dirty Vans, earning a gasp from a very clueless Harry.

"Hm?", he didn't look away from the telly, shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He seemed really interested in the vintage movie playing. There was something about noir cinema that always won Harry's heart. In rehab, he'd waste all of his free time watching television, not keen on going for a jog around the gardens or reading a book like the other patients.

"Wanna go do something exciting?"

"I'm busy."

"Watching Double Indemnity for the billionth time isn't being busy."

"Funny. It was, last time I checked", he scooped more ice cream, chewing it so aggressively it was giving him a brain freeze.

"Oh, my god, you're gonna turn your cerebral matter into a popsicle like that!"

"At least I'll feel something", he said nonchalantly. 

Louis rolled his eyes and spoke through gritted teeth "Harry. I'm serious. Let's go out."

"With you?"

"Hell yeah, with me!"

“You’re no fun, Tomlinson,” he teased.

“You’re literally choosing a fucking old movie over me, Jesus.”

"Where do you want to go?", it came out muffled by chocolate chips and cookie crumbs. His lips were covered in vanilla cream, shining in white.

"Since when do you need a reason to hit the streets with me, young man?"

"Since I've gotten out of rehab and realized nothing is fun without drugs?"

Louis stared at him with a cocked eyebrow and squinted eyes.

"Sorry, too real?", Harry faced him back for the first time.

"Maybe," Louis swiped his thumb around the corner of his mouth tenderly, cleaning the ice cream up in slow motion "But I like it raw."

"Kinky."

_You're one to say_, Louis thought.

"Your hair is getting shaggy, did y'know that?"

Harry threw a pillow at him good-naturedly, showcasing a smile through the gloom in his eyes.

"I meant it in a good way! You look like a rock star who hasn't showered in days. It's rebellious, I like it."

"Shut up, Louis!", Harry threw another pillow at him, hitting his beautifully combed fringe. He was giggling like a school boy and the movie wasn't as important as it was before.

The only thing Harry could focus on was Louis' melodic, airy, sugary voice taunting him, pushing him to the edge. He got drunk on it every time. He loved being in the spotlight of Louis' attention, adored feeling like he wasn't as problematic as everyone said he was. Whenever he was with Louis, he was just himself. Silly, heartfelt, carefree Harry.

"Alright! Stop messing my fringe", Louis flipped his locks a few times, trying to undo the damage. "Let me make an invitation out of it, then."

Harry was looking at him expectantly, licking his lips to suppress a smile.

"Harry Edward Styles," he got on one knee on the floor.

"Oh, god, that's embarrassing-" Harry covered his eyes, cackling loudly.

"Stop it, dumb ass, let me finish", Louis grabbed his wrists so he'd look at him. "I know you've been through some shit, but you're here and that's what matters. I promise things are not as bad as they seem and that you will get better soon. And I will help you see it."

"You're such a sap, how do you even live with yourself?"

"Shut up, let me talk", they were both giggling at that point, flushed faces and teary eyes. Louis' knee was aching from being on the hard wooden floor. "So, let me help. I was with you when you were scared to apply for cheer leading in high school. When you got your SATs results and we trashed your mum’s house in celebration. When you went to St. Mary’s. And I’m here now. So, let me help."

Harry blinked and noticed his eyes were wet. Happy tears in a sea storm of sad ones, finally, at last. Both of his dimples were on display like two moon craters, just how Louis liked and, God, he wished he was an astronaut to land on them.

"You're amazing. I don't deserve you. You're everything, Lou", he sobbed for a few seconds, tasting the salty tears overcoming the ice cream. Weirdly, it felt almost as good. Cleansing. "Of course I want to go out and drink shitty beer with you."

“Hey! Just ‘cos it’s alcohol free doesn’t mean it’s shitty.”

“Please”, he rolled his eyes “Just take me somewhere, then.”

"Your wish is my command, princess", Louis kissed the back of his hand theatrically and climbed back to his spot on the sofa.

Harry's face was red. Raging, angry red. His cheeks were one second from exploding like an atomic bomb. His skin was flushed until his chest, bubbling with emotion, confusion and embarrassment.

"What's gotten into you, curly?"

"I'm- just happy, s'all."

"Good", Louis liked him way too much to embarrass him any more than he already was "Now, get in those tight pants of yours and let's go."

_______________


	2. Canada and Cherry Coke

As they walked, the air around them was thick and heavy, like the Devil's breath after a bowl of jalapeños. Harry's face was alight by the moon, high in the sky. Its glow rained across the sidewalk, reflecting on the dark tiles. Harry was in his cheetah print jacket, despite the heat of the Sunshine State, and a single cross earring was on his ear. Louis was beside him, in a red button down, checking the address on his mobile.

"It's so hot I swear I could go for a dive right now", Louis complained, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

Just the thought of Harry baring his arms at the beach again had him panicking. He missed the waves, though. Before everything started, he had his long locks washed golden by the sun and a tanned cocoa skin. St. Mary's got him a much shorter hair and his milky colour back. The needle marks were scars now, of course, but they were ugly, crooked circles of terrible memories.

"Can you tell me where we're going now?", Harry insisted for what felt like the tenth time that night, trying to change the subject.

"I promise you'll like it."

"I don't like surprises," he shrieked, fiddling with his sobriety chip.

The silvery medal had '8 months sober' carved in it and he used to carry it with him everywhere as a reminder not to give in to the temptation. Specially to parties, where the bar usually allured him like a moth to the flame, and people exchanged tiny bags of happiness in the dark. It was easy to snort a line of blow and let the music be your guide. People became more interesting, the bass hit harder, everything looked sharper, warmer. Clubs were a sea of red flags, as his psychiatrist had told him once.

"Bullshit."

"I don't like _your_ surprises."

"You're full of shit."

"Remember when you tried to bake me a cake-"

"That time didn't count, I got distracted."

"What about that time in high school when I found you black out drunk, asleep on my doorstep?"

"Harry," he exhaled heavily, looking up from the screen to search for Harry's eyes as if he was going to apologize "I knew exactly where I was."

"On my doormat," he deadpanned.

"Yes."

"Asleep. On my doormat."

"I wanted to see you that night."

"Right," Harry huffed again, stretching his crop top self consciously. He trusted Louis, though. Probably more than anyone else. So, he kept walking beside him like his life depended on it.

"It's just around the corner, I swear. We're meeting a couple friends of mine so you can get your social train back on track."

"Is Oli coming?"

"He is. He's looking forward to seeing you."

"Oh, boy."

"And," he sing-sang "they serve that fancy non alcoholic drink you like."

Harry's face lit up immediately. "Apple, elderflower-"

"-and mint sparkle, yes. Called earlier to check."

Harry blushed, ashamed to have doubted Louis for a second. He was scared, that was the thing. Scared he wouldn't know how to mingle with Louis' friends or how to carry a normal conversation. Time in rehab felt purgatorial. A part of his life gone forever, like a book with ripped pages. People would talk about work, college, their hobbies and relationships. Harry would talk about how he missed heroin, how he had become frantic with cleaning and maybe, at the peak of his dysphoria, blurt out he was still fucking his ex.

He had gone out a couple weeks ago and then never again because of Jim's incident. This would be his second try, a more hesitant one, with a very determined Louis to balance out the equation. The night had many promises and Harry was anxious of being let down for a second time.

"Thanks," he said instead, trying to be easy going and not a handful for once.

"No problem, kiddo."

The silence between them rose again. Comfortable, but volcanic, as if its peace could be disturbed at any moment. The only audible sound was Harry's sobriety chip clashing lightly against his manicured fingernails. He rolled it between his slim fingers, thinking he should probably put it in a necklace instead of clinging to it like a maniac.

Every day, he looked at himself in the mirror and thought _that_ was going to be the day he'd break. That he'd call his old dealer or ask Jim for a new needle. His arms itched, ached for it even. He never broke though.

"Louis."

There it was, the eruption.

"Do you think you're more creative when you're high?", Harry continued.

"What do you mean?"

"When you paint. Do you tend to get more creative after smoking?"

"More reckless, maybe. Not necessarily creative."

"You've painted high before though, I remember", Harry pocketed his chip and kept his stare on his shoes, treading the subject "The lake painting on our dining room, you were bonging when you came up with the sketch."

"Was that so?" Louis' voice reached a higher pitch, genuinely surprised "That was so long ago. I don't even know why you decided to hang it up, it's not that good."

"It's wonderful. I like how bright the trees are, but the darkness in the water is what I love the most." Harry peaked to look at Louis, making sure he understood the painting meant something to him. "It's my favorite."

"Thank you." _You're my favorite._

"So, does it make a difference at all, being high?"

"Probably? I guess every thing that alters your train of thought can take you to new places. Not necessarily good ones. But you know I don't do that anymore."

"I told you already. You don't need to quit weed because of me. It's just pot."

"I didn't even like it. It was bad for my lungs anyway."

"Yeah", it came out as a scoff, more sarcastic than he intended to.

Louis stared back at him, confused, "What?"

"Never mind."

"Harry", Louis stopped walking abruptly "Do you wanna go home? I wanted to take you out but we can call it a night if it's making you feel anxious or if you're second guessing yourself."

"No." He stopped walking too, uncertain. "No, I don't want to go home."

"Fine. Let's go then, we're almost there."

"It's just that...it's always bad."

"What is?"

"Drugs. They're always bad. For your lungs, for your life, for your relationships. That's all people tell me. Sounds like lousy catholic propaganda. Eat your vegetables, stay in school, don't do drugs."

"Well, do you disagree?"

"No, but..." He traced the chip over his jeans' pocket for reassurance, "It's not all bad."

At that point, they were both standing still on the sidewalk. Some clouds were overshadowing the moon, already shy behind them. The lamp posts were twinkling and Harry had a weird feeling at the pit of his stomach. He knew what he wanted to say, so why the words were hanging so bitterly on his tongue, like they shouldn't be let out?

"Drugs were how I got to know more about myself. My limits. What kind of dreams I enjoy having and which ones are nightmares. It was like...staring at the world with macro lens."

"It's okay, Harry, it really is," Louis caressed his arm soothingly, trying to coax the pain out of him "You don't owe me an explanation."

"I wasn't explaining. It just gets on my nerves."

"Alright." Louis decided to indulge him for a while, sensing he might have been needing to have this conversation.

"That's how Jim and I started dating, you know."

"I know, I remember." _I was there when you started shutting me out._

"They're his. The flowers." Harry blurted out, feeling sweat on his palms and a strange anxiety, like he knew that what he was doing was wrong, dirty, immoral.

"I figured. Are you happy?"

"I don't know. Just wanted to tell you I really like him. It took me a while to come to terms with the fact he doesn't want to get back together, but I'm willing to wait."

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded, biting his lower lip in hesitation, "I think I love him, Lou."

Louis opened his arms and welcomed Harry in a hug, soothing him. He could feel Harry's heart beating against both of their rib cages. Like an 808, hammering the bones with all of his youth and corrupted innocence. They were so close, Louis could feel Harry's diaphragm pumping like they were sharing a pair of lungs.

"Proud of you for admitting your feelings", he whispered in his ear "Just take care of yourself, yeah?"

Harry nodded and broke the hug, sniffling a bit. "Sorry. It really does sound like I'm explaining something", he noticed his eyes were wet and dried them quickly with the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's fine. Do you still want to go?"

"Yeah. It will be fun to let loose with you for a bit."

"Okay", Louis smiled big and bright. The wrinkles by his cerulean eyes were visible and he looked too pumped for someone who loved a cold pint but was doomed to drinking fruity smoothies all night.

Harry took a deep breath and they resumed their walk. He was trying to focus on the goods. A chance to meet new people, to dance, to take the steam out of his dull life. He was tired of feeling scared all the time.

"I know it's been a while since St. Mary's, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it", he spoke again, following an uneven stream of thoughts, as if every single one of his memories and conflicts were knit together in a big net. Somehow, everything always went back to St. Mary's, its white walls and the tiny window he kept open at all times.

"Don't worry," Louis cooed and snaked his arm around Harry's bare waist, making him shiver "I got you."

"Your hands are so cold," he spoke in between a breath.

"Do you want me to let go of you?" he flinched, hovering his fingers above his skin with uncertainty.

"No. Want you closer."

Louis' lips showcased a little smile and he engulfed Harry's waist completely, resting his whole palm over his skin. Harry embraced Louis back, putting his long arm over his shoulders, feeling less tense already.

"You dressed up all naughty, didn't you," Louis tickled his waist, noticing how little his crop top was underneath the animal print jacket. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"What?! No! It's just a top!" Harry squirmed from the tickling, caught by surprise. His big teeth were on display from laughter and his transparent lip gloss looked even more shiny somehow.

"Okay."

"I hate you."

"I said okay!", Louis cackled.

"I just wanted to dress up a bit."

"You look good, promise. Just messing with you."

"I know."

"That I'm messing with you or that you look good?"

"Both."

"My friends are nothing like the guys who take you home, though."

"We'll see. I'm in it for something new, anyway."

"Really?", Louis just smiled and raised his eyebrows in surprise, glad to see Harry was giving the night a chance.

He nodded, "If Jimmy is seeing other people, maybe I should too."

Louis hummed, "That's some proper good logic."

The silence surfaced again, gentler this time.

In a few minutes, they arrived there. The place was small and the whole experience looked exclusive. Red and turquoise neon lights were contouring the name of the club, 'Crimson & Clover'. There was a long line and people were all dressed up, painted in heavy lipsticks and smelling of hairspray.

"Is this our stop, Lou?"

"Hell, yes. Welcome to Crimson. I used to come here a lot when you were back in Georgia. Made some good memories. Maybe it works out for you too?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically and they made their way to the door. A buff security guard was checking credentials as the loud music escaped to the outside.

It was hypnotizing, really, how the blinding lights and the filthy bass seemed to swallow everything. The club looked like an entire different dimension. People smiled like nobody had to go to work in the morning, with their hearts drunk from poison and temporarily clean from hurt. A twist to everything Harry knew.

"Hello, we're under the name of Tomlinson?" Louis spoke loudly so the man could hear him over the music "I also requested a minor bracelet?"

The man swiped his tablet a few times and slid his finger until he found Louis' name. "Identification, please."

Harry and Louis complied and a white bracelet was tied around Harry's wrist. It read "Not allowed booze" with a few sad faces around it.

"Dark humour", Harry inspected it "Nice."

Louis laughed and grabbed Harry by the hand, making their way through the crowd of bodies ahead of them. Most of them were dancing or making out, and only a few were sat down sipping on expensive martinis or whatever else one could fit into a fancy, tall glass.

"I think my friends are upstairs!" Louis resumed his screaming "Do you wanna go look for them or dance a bit first?!"

"Dance!", Harry shouted back, biting a smile.

His face was lit by the neon lights and he was giggling, swaying his hips experimentally. The music was upbeat and very different from the genres he was used to. It was nothing like his noir movies, jazz or blues. It was all shades of bloody black at once.

"This is kind of fun!"

"What is?!", Louis laughed at the way Harry was dancing, moving his gangly limbs from side to side. His rhythm was a bit off, but he looked determined to make the music follow him and not the other way around.

"This pop music thing!"

"Yeah! We can go grab your drink later, if you want!"

Harry nodded, giving him a thumbs up. He contoured his chip in his pocket again, trying to gain strength from it. _I made it this far. I can make it another day._

The thing about being sober was that letting go of inhibitions was so much harder. Harry's dance moves were bold and authentic, but he was still hyper aware of his exposed stomach, of the few rebel curls that every now and then stuck to his lip gloss or to his single earring, and of Louis in front of him.

Louis, the only one who could see right through his facade. Harry knew Louis was neglecting a lot of his life because of him. He would say he was tired when his friends invited him to hang out, but Harry knew it was because he didn't want to leave him alone at the apartment. They lived on the 10th floor, after all.

To everyone else, though, Harry looked carefree. All tight jeans and bright smiles, swaying as naturally as the sea, hypnotizing every pair of eyes in an explosion of neon colors as if he had done that on every other day of his life.

And so they danced, laughed and screamed at each other when a good song came on. Harry's knees were already getting tired from being out of practice.

"Hello."

A deep voice in Harry's ear washed down his body like a bucket of cold water. He felt two hands catching grip of his hips, slowly, but with intention.

Harry shivered and bared one side of his neck, exposing himself. He didn't look at Louis.

"Are you here with someone?", the voice continued.

"Just a friend."

"A boyfriend?"

"No. I'm available." He cringed at himself for sounding so eager and desperate.

The voice chuckled in his ear. It was loaded with the smell of tequila and lemon, citric and sweet at the same time. Harry wanted to suck the flavor off his tongue. He didn't know if it was out of desire or abstinence.

"Do you have a name I can call you by?"

"I'm Harry." He looked at Louis while answering, realizing the frown of worry in his face. He was barely dancing at this point, just moving his feet awkwardly. The blue in his eyes was rock hard, like a hawk waiting to attack.

"You smell really good, Harry." The man kissed his neck, strengthening the grip on his hips. "I'm Timotheé."

Harry looked at Louis once more and nodded, a little sheepish smile showing on his glossy lips. _Don't worry. I'm fine. I want this._

Louis visibly relaxed his shoulders and smiled back, big and candid. _Go for it._

Harry turned around to face Timotheé, being surprised by how big the man's pupils were. They were surrounded by a thin halo of green and his forehead was a bit sweaty, glittering beneath the disco ball. He was in a silvery blazer and his ebony curls were pushed back as if he had just snogged someone.

"Nice to meet you," Harry put his arms around his shoulders, biting his lower lip as Timotheé squeezed his ass in return.

"A pretty boy like yourself, all alone? I don't buy that."

"I've arrived not long ago", he giggled. Somehow, he could still feel Louis' eyes on him.

"So, I'm the first one to talk to you?"

Harry nodded, "A lucky man."

"What do you do, Harry?"

"Would that change your opinion about me?"

"Unless you're a serial killer, I don't think so, no."

Harry bit back a smile "I'm a writer. Or used to be."

"Used to be?"

"Had to quit college. Tuition and all that." He avoided eye contact and shrugged. "What about you?"

"I'm from Canada. I'm here for the weekend," Timotheé placed his thumbs on Harry's hipbones. Harry cringed at it for a moment, scared he would notice they were too prominent.

"That's why you're so nice."

"Hmm." Timotheé seemed to think for a moment, moving to suck a mark on Harry's nude collarbones. "Do you realize?", he spoke against his skin.

Harry had his eyes closed, moaning softly as the hickey on him turned purple, "Realize what?"

"That everyone's got their eyes on you?"

"You're just- just saying that", he was losing his train of thought. Jimmy had touched him like that just yesterday. He wanted someone to suck marks on every part of his body forever.

Sex was good for Harry. It was wonderful. Always in the dark though, so nobody could comment on his scars or on how skinny he had gotten. Sex was a different kind of high and, unlike the others, he never felt guilty for it. On the contrary, he always wanted more. Another orgasm. One more round of spanks. Maybe he should put Jimmy on the shelf for a while and get somebody new to miss every week.

Timotheé slid his fingers into his bell hoops before stepping back to talk. "I'm not. That guy, in the red shirt? He's eating you up with his eyes."

Harry's heart rate skyrocketed and he shook his head, alarmed "That's just Louis. My best friend. He's just looking after me."

"Will Louis-the-best-friend mind if I take you back to my hotel?"

"You haven't earned that yet, cowboy," Harry tapped his chest, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, I know," another ass squeeze "Don't worry. I will."

Harry smiled to hide the fact that the man's confidence was making him hard. He put his hair behind his ear, struggling to flirt, and Timotheé's eyes traveled to his wrist.

"What's this?", he grabbed his forearm gently to analyse his bracelet "You're not a minor, are you?"

"Oh! No. I'm just- on antibiotics, so I can't have booze."

"Was this Louis-the-best-friend's doing?"

"Yes. I'm...forgetful."

Timothée hummed, getting closer to Harry's ear "I think you'll remember tonight, though."

Harry whined at the dirty promise. He needed cock up his ass like yesterday.

Louis noticed how pliant Harry was in the mysterious man's hold and realized they were going somewhere with that. So, he decided to go after his friends upstairs. He texted Harry to let him know just in case and went cutting a careful swath through the mass of bodies that stood in his path.

He found his crew by the VIP area, surrounded by more bottles than one could count.

"Tommo!", Oli exclaimed, clearly too drunk for his own good.

Louis opened his arms to welcome his friend, whose breath smelled like an entire bottle of vodka.

"Fuck, you're shit faced, aren't you?!", he laughed with a bit of worry as he straightened Oli's tee.

"You took too long, so we started without you", Calvin said as he sipped on a pint.

"Sorry," he sat down at the table with them "Had to wait for Harry to get ready. You know what he's like."

"Pretty? Naughty? The guy with the perkiest ass I've ever seen?" Oli deadpanned with another drink already in hand.

It was no surprise to Louis Oli had a bit of a platonic crush on Harry. He liked all of his social media posts and gushed about Harry sending him cute emojis every now and then, but that was as far as it went. Louis thought Harry just liked the attention, but he never had the heart to burst Oli's bubble.

"Easy there. He's downstairs chatting to some dude. I texted him, but I don't think he'll need me for a while."

"That bad, huh?", Calvin's eyebrows shot up.

"The guy seemed alright. Harry kind of needs to let the steam out, I think."

"Thought he was back with Jim?"

"I thought so too. I don't know, I try not to ask too much."

"Right," Calvin sighed in solidarity. "Aren't you drinking?"

"Can't. Not while Harry is living with me."

Oli rolled his eyes, filling a new glass with Bacardi. Its smell of green apple flooded Louis' nostrils like a tsunami. He didn't even get the chance to buy Harry his apple, elderflower and mint sparkle drink.

"Louis. You can't be stone cold sober. You're drinking. Come on."

"Am not. I can't."

"Dude? Harry's not even with you. He left you for some random fuck and you're here obsessing over something that doesn't even exist!", Oli raised his voice, clearly under the influence.

"He's my best friend. I'm not asking you to understand. Just to respect it."

Calvin watched quietly, with his mouth latched to his pint as if to occupy it.

"You're fucking dumb sometimes, Louis, I swear to God. I spent fifty bucks on this bottle of Bacardi 'cause I know it's your favorite and now you're being an ass."

"I didn't ask you to do that," Louis explained calmly, glancing at Calvin for some sort of support "I told you I wouldn't drink."

"I thought you didn't mean it."

"I meant it. I can't go home smelling like alcohol."

"Whatever. Your fucking loss", Oli took the bottle to his lips and drank from it theatrically, making a show of it and eyeing Louis sharply.

Calvin frowned, mouthing an 'I'm sorry'. They both knew arguing with Oli as drunk as he was would be a lost cause.

"I can still have my fun. Isn't Lee coming?"

"He had some girl over or something", Calvin said nonchalantly.

"Seems like everyone's getting some."

"We're not", Oli said.

"From how drunk you are, I guess it's for the best."

And so they carried on with their small talk, Louis drinking Cherry Coke and Oli mourning the loss of being Harry's potential hook up. They left their argument behind and slowly went back to friendly bantering. It felt good, to be away from everything for a while. The Crimson always gave Louis good memories.

They chatted away and time flew like a dove. Louis checked his phone every now and then for a reply from Harry, but he was out of luck. He kept wondering whether he was having fun. He missed his presence and dancing with him. It was both a good thing and a shame that he was mingling with other people so quickly. 

"Guys", Louis said, gripping his shirt as if to make his heart rate slow down "I feel weird."

"What's up, Lou?", Calvin asked.

"I feel fucking dizzy, oh my God."

"Are you on something?"

"Of course not, Jesus. Fuck, my entire body is tingling."

"Do you feel bad, though?", Oli asked with a daring smirk.

"What?"

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

"What?", he repeated, confused and desperate.

"Slipped some MD on your Coke earlier", Oli clicked his tongue "You're welcome."

"What the hell, man?! That's fucked up!" Calvin screamed and got up, helping Louis stand up as his body shook uncontrollably.

"Tell me you're kidding. Tell me you're messing with me, Oli, or I swear we're never speaking again", Louis stumbled and put all of his dead weight on Calvin, who had firm grips on his arms.

"Whoa there, Lou, I was just trying to get you in the mood-"

Calvin frowned in horror "You took it too far. You messed up real fucking bad. I'm heading out with Louis."

Louis thought of a hundred things he wanted to say, of a million punches he wanted to deliver to Oli's jawline and of billion ways of how this could go wrong with Harry. But he couldn't speak. Everything around him was blurry and he felt hot and cold at the same time. All the colors were hurting his eyes like daggers and he could only focus on Calvin dragging him to the bathroom.

"Harry is going to be so upset", that's all he could let out.

"Louis. We need to take care of yourself. Don't think about Harry now, alright?" Calvin wet some toilet paper to wipe the sweat droplets from Louis' forehead, scared that he was getting paler by the second.

"I'm going to try and puke."

"If you didn't look as pale as you do, I'd say this was a bad idea. But maybe you do need to get it out of your system."

"Help me- take off my t-shirt, please, I'm sweating bullets."

Calvin complied as Louis relied on the sink to remain upright, barely being able to make the shapes on his friend's face by that point. His heart was racing like a Ferrari and all he could think about was that Harry couldn't see him in this state.

He stumbled to the toilet and kneeled down, disregarding how dirty and wet the floor was. He just needed to throw the drug up. Calvin was right beside him, holding his shoulders so he wouldn't lose balance while he shoved two fingers inside his throat.

The gagging noises echoed through the walls as his fingers hit his uvula repeatedly, but nothing came out.

"I'm going to die, Cal. I'm dying, I've been trying to puke for two hours now."

Other men passed through them, offering for help or cringing at Louis' situation, probably thinking he was dumb to not know how to drug himself.

"Two hours- Louis, try again, it's only been five minutes since we got here." He dried the sweat off his back with his tee, trying not to panic.

Louis looked confused and his pupils were like black holes, but he understood and complied, shoving three fingers down his throat this time. The gagging noises resumed themselves and he got some of the Coke out. A bit of blood was coming out too, probably from having bit his tongue in the process and being too dormant to realize. His mouth tasted like iron, cherry and death at the same time.

He threw up another four times, getting everything he had eaten in the day out in the process.

"See? You will feel better in no time."

"I wanna go home", he made a motion to lay on the floor, but was stopped by Calvin's agile hands.

"You can't sleep here, buddy."

"I'm dizzy."

"I know."

"Let's go look for Harry-"

"NO!"

"He will understand, Lou. He knows you'd never do anything like this. I will talk to him."

"No, no, no. Take me to your house. He can't see me like this- I can't trigger an episode on him, please."

Calvin frowned in sympathy and grabbed Louis' cellphone from his jeans, typing out a message to Harry.

_This is Calvin, one of Louis' friends from uni, don't know if you remember me. Louis isn't feeling well, so I'm taking him home with me. Call a cab when you want to leave. Be safe, Harry._

"All set, let's go", he lift Louis up from the floor, feeling his sweaty torso stick to his clothes. He was shaking considerably less and looked more aware of his surroundings, which was good. Maybe he didn't need a hospital after all.

Downstairs at the Crimson, Timotheé was taking Harry to his hotel on a cab. They had talked about nothing and everything and snogged for a while. Harry was the one to suggest it, desperate to chase some kind of high.

"You're too eager for an angelic face like yours", Timotheé felt Harry hump on his thigh in the backseat, dying to get his hands on him. Harry swirled his tongue around his so hard he could almost grasp the droplets of tequila he had had a couple hours ago.

Somewhere in Harry's jeans pocket, Louis' message was forgotten, trumped by an indulging Canadian boy and an hyper sexualisation syndrome, a product of his drug abstinence.

"Wanna suck you off."

"Shhh", he took his finger to Harry's mouth to shut it and blushed as he thought the driver might have heard it. "Not here, darling, wait until we get there."

Harry took his finger knot deep in his mouth in response, sucking on it like a lollipop and batting his eyelashes purposefully. He was already rock hard in his underwear and he could see Timotheé wasn't doing much better.

"Shit. You're fucking wild. Wanna fuck you so hard." He whispered and kissed him again. He was glad the music was loud so that they could share obscenities to each other without being thrown out of the car.

"Please, papi. Fuck me."

"What did you- did you just say?"

"I'm- sorry-"

"Say it again."

And so, they went to Timotheé's five stars room at the Ritz-Carlton, all silk sheets and dirty promises. And they fucked, and they fucked, and they fucked way too hard. Harry had been on all fours, his cross earring swinging from Timotheé's thrusts, asking for more spanks like his skin wasn't already on fire. Harry fell asleep on his bed, exhausted and spent, with come still leaking from his ass and streaming down his thighs.

The aftermath would hurt like hell. He just didn't know it yet.

_______________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, leave your honest opinion! All feedback is appreciated. Love!


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